


Cravings of the Physical Variety

by stingerpicnic (ibelieveinfiction)



Series: have i told you that I love you? a thousand times in a thousand ways (Snufmin Week 2019) [5]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Moomin is Full Of Love, Snufkin has never wanted to hold a paw so bad in his life, Snufmin Week 2019, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail, Spring Reunion, Touch-Starved, Winter, but it gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-04-24 09:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19170703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinfiction/pseuds/stingerpicnic
Summary: Snufkin doesn't always like to admit it, but he loves how physically affectionate Moomintroll is.Perhaps he loves it a little too much. He doesn't regret it.





	Cravings of the Physical Variety

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittyorange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyorange/gifts).



> Looks like it's Project Onto Snufkin hours yet again y'all.
> 
> This is yet another fic inspired by a conversation between me and [@candycorncartooncat](https://candycorncartooncat.tumblr.com/) (tumblr)/[@kittyorange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyorange/pseuds/kittyorange) (ao3)! A big thanks to them for listening to me rant about touch starvation and confirming that I'm not wrong and, yes, that IS what it feels like. And for encouraging me. And also for just talking to me in general tbqh.
> 
> Written for Snufmin Week 2019. Day Five: Hand Holding

It's winter, and there's something bothering Snufkin.

It's nothing too big, certainly not enough to ruin his enjoyment of his travels.

It _does_ make him wish to return to Moominvalley a bit. Or, more specifically, it makes him want to return to _Moomintroll._ But that want is something he's dealt with for years. And it's only gotten more intense over time, especially after he and Moomintroll began their relationship. Even so, he's never caved to it before winter was up before and he _won't_ be doing it this year either. He will return to Moomintroll on the first day of spring and not before. No matter how much he wants to.

Still, he wishes this was just a regular case of missing his boyfriend. He can deal with that fairly well. But  _this_ _?_ This is more difficult to deal with.

This sort of thing never seemed to bother him before he met Moomintroll. Or, maybe it _did_ bother him and he just didn't notice because he didn't know life could be any different.

There's an _itch_ under his skin that he just can't seem to scratch no matter how hard he tries.

The worst part is that _knows_ what he needs. He knows _exactly_ what will soothe the itch under his skin. But he can't have it right now and he won't he _able_ to get it until spring.

He needs a hug, preferably from Moomintroll, if he's being honest. He needs paws smoothing over his back and rubbing circles wherever they settle. He needs a living weight settled over him. He needs the feel of the rise and fall of a chest and a heartbeat that isn't his own.

He needs to be _touched_ like he needs to eat. And just like going days without food, going weeks without touch has left him starved for it.

_Stars,_ he's never wanted to hold Moomintroll's paw so badly in his _life._

It started slowly, the itch building on the edge of his awareness gradually enough that he almost ignore it. _Did_ ignore it for _weeks_.

But then one day he woke up alone in his tent and he was suddenly overcome with the desire to be cuddled. It hit him like a landslide, so sudden and intense that he  _couldn't_ ignore it anymore. He  _needed_ to be touched. 

In his half-awake state he stumbled right out of his tent, intending to run to Moominhouse, climb up Moomintroll's rope ladder, and climb right into bed next to him. Then he realized where he was.

He wasn't anywhere near Moominvalley. He was miles and miles away and he was _alone._ There would be no cuddles, no hugs, no kisses, and no soft fur and strong body pressed closed to his own. Not in that moment and not for a long time after.

It was a realization that shattered his heart in his chest and left him far more hollow than it found him.

He spent the rest of that morning curled up in his tent, forcing a comforting purr to rumble out of his chest, his blanket wrapped around him as tightly as he could get it in the hopes he would be able to trick himself into believing it was the hug he wanted.

It didn't work. But then he didn't really expect it to.

Since then it's been harder to ignore the itch, the _ache_ that's settled in around his shoulders and along his spine.

Some days, it's not so bad and he only feels it when he's not distracting himself by thinking of other, nicer things. Other days he feels it so acutely it _hurts_ and it's a struggle to tear his mind away from it.

On those days he's always altogether too conscious of things that shouldn't garner his attention at all. The weight of his pack on his shoulders, the brush of his clothes against his skin, the way it all moves and shifts as he walks.

It's not _enough_. It's _close,_ sometimes. So close he can almost pretend that the weight on his shoulders is the hug he craves and the brush of cloth against his skin is the loving caresses he feels like he _needs_ in order to live.

But they're _not_ those things and they never will be.

Nothing he could ever do could possibly replicate the touch of another person well enough. Nothing he could ever do himself could satisfy his craving to be touched by another person. Not running his hands over his arms or lacing his fingers together or wrapping his tail against his waist and _especially_ not the nonliving weight of his clothes and his pack. In fact, all it ever seems to do is make it _worse._

Even the wind hurts on those days.

The only comfort he has is that he can usually tell fairly early when a day is going to be bad. At least he doesn't get surprised by it.

He has dreams, sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. Wonderful, _terrible_ dreams. He dreams of Moominvalley and Moomintroll and all the nice, sweet things they could be doing. He dreams of soft touches and tight hugs and mornings spent cuddled up together. He dreams of kisses and paws clasped together and a warm body to lean against. He dreams of strong arms and tails looping together and the firm press of laws against his back.

They're both the best and the worst dreams he's ever had, all at the same time.

In some ways those dreams are _worse_ than his nightmares. He can distract himself from the nightmares. He has a pile of letters from all his friends he keeps in his pack for the express purpose of distracting him, reassuring him. The cold terror he feels is temporary and will fade soon after he wakes up.

But those dreams, those fantastic, torturous dream, place an ache between his shoulder blades that's both physical and entirely _not_ and there's _nothing_ he can do to soothe it. It eats away at him, pressing further and pressing harder with every with every thought, tearing at his heart and leaving his chest hollow and his body too heavy, like it's just some dead weight he's dragging along and not a part of him.

He can't distract himself for very long on those days. He _can_ claw his way away from focusing on it with effort, but his mind will inevitably recenter itself on the feeling and he'll have to start the process all over again.

He just can't stop _thinking_ about it. Everything he's feeling is too distracting in its own right to be distracted _from._

Snufkin can feel the itch to be touched skitter along his spine, tensing his muscles in a way he can't relax. He can feel the soft pulse of his own heartbeat, taunting him with something so close yet far from what he needs. His very _skin_ is all at once too tight and too loose, like his soul has pulled away and shifted just a bit to the side and nothing is setting as it should.

Those days, his worst days, aren't very fun, but they're few and far between, so it's not too bad. He'll be seeing Moomintroll again in the spring, anyways. Moomintroll would hold his paw and snuggle him forever if he asked him to.

He's tempted to ask.

 

* * *

 

It's the first day of spring and Snufkin is sitting on the bridge playing his new spring tune after setting up his camp.

It's a nice tune, if a little sad. This year it was inspired by the longing for Moomintroll and the craving for touch he'd been feeling at varying intensities all winter. Creating it had been a good distraction. It allowed him to distract himself from the feeling while he still letting him process it.

But right now he finds he doesn't much care about the tune or how good it is. He can see Moomintroll nearly falling out of his window in his excitement to see him again and that is  _far_ more important.

He wants to chuckle at the scene, but manages to control himself enough to continue playing his mouth organ until Moomintroll is almost upon him.

"Snufkin! I'm so glad to see you again!" he says as Snufkin returns his mouth organ to his pocket. He's hopping from foot to foot, nearly vibrating with excitement.

"It's good to see you again too, Moomintroll. This winter was particularly long," he says, a genuine smile sliding easily onto his face.

He goes to get up. He wants so _badly_ to accept the hug Moomintroll obviously wants to give him. Moomintroll offers his paw to help him up and Snufkin has to stifle a gasp as he takes it.

The contact, even as practical as it is, sends a spark shooting up his arm and into his chest, starbursting as it reaches his heart. It's a good feeling, he decides immediately. It may steal his breath from his lungs but he'll gladly suffocate if that's what it takes to get more of Moomintroll's touch.

Once he stands, Moomintroll immediately lets go of his paw and opens his arms in an invitation for a hug. It warms Snufkin's heart that even after all the years he's eagerly accepted Moomintroll's hugs upon his return in the spring, he still _offers_ instead of assuming he wants them. Moomintroll is so considerate of his needs.

Still, there's no reality in which he _doesn't_ accept the offer andthrow himself into Moomintroll's arms right at that moment.

Moomintroll immediately wraps him up tight in his promised hug. The pressure sparks up a warm buzzing underneath his skin, like a hive full of angry honeybees has decided to take up residence there. Snufkin decides he likes this feeling, too.

He feels more whole than he's felt in months. The terrible yawning emptiness that has formed inside him filled to the brim with love and happiness. He can't resist the purr that starts up in his chest.

It's the best hug he's ever received.

But it can't last forever. Eventually, Moomintroll squeezes him tight one last time and draws away. He's likely doing it for him, Snufkin realizes. Moomintroll doesn't want to overwhelm him.

In that moment, Snufkin regrets having cultivated the kind of image that would make Moomintroll think he would _ever_ want to let go.

The ache that's taken up residence along his shoulders and down his back comes back full force once they part. It comes back worse, actually, a deeper ache than it ever was before. Sharp and bitterly cold _._ It leaves him hollow all over again, as if Moomintroll has stolen his heart from his chest, the hole left in it's place more cavernous and unending than it had any right to be.

He's been given a taste of what he needs only to have it ripped away from him once again.

He feels bereft and so _terribly_ alone now that Moomintroll isn't touching him. He has to stop himself from just grabbing him right there and _never_ letting go. He's kept his composure for this entire ordeal, he can keep it for a few moments more. At least as long as it would take him to drag Moomintroll back to his tent so they can be alone together, his mind supplies. Maybe then, out of the public eye, Moomintroll might be more willing to unabashedly touch him.

...Actually that's not too bad of an idea.

He snatches up Moomintroll's paw and leads him back to his campsite and then into his tent. Moomintroll looks only too happy to follow him.

"Moomintroll," He says, already tugging off his coat and stretching himself out on top of his bedroll, too desperate for contact and too sure of Moomintroll's opinion of him to bother being embarrassed, "I've missed you terribly these past few months and now all I want to do is cuddle. For hours, preferably."

This time it's _Snufkin's_ arms that open in offering and Moomintroll doesn't waste any time before diving in.

"Of course, Snufkin. That sounds like the best way to spend your first day back," he says softly in the small space, nuzzling his snout against Snufkin's nose in a Moomin kiss, lowering himself down on top of him.

Snufkin feels Moomintroll settle on top of him, warm and heavy and _alive._ He can feel his heartbeat through his chest like this, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes by the way the pressure on top of him changes, feel the rumble of his purr mixing with his own.

It's possibly one of the best things that's ever happened to him, better than all the beautiful sights he's seen and all the wonderful nights he's spent alone. Better than almost anything else in the world. The only other things that could ever even _hope_ to match it is every other moment he's spent with Moomintroll. But then again maybe he's biased, he thinks. Love tends to do that to a person.

There's not much that he can possibly imagine making this any better, but everything he _can_ imagine is an easy fix. As easy as tangling his tail with Moomintroll's and searching out his paw with his own, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.

He relaxes fully, content that this moment is as perfect as it's going to get, and lets Moomintroll's comforting weight press his soul back into his body.

He really _does_ love holding paws with Moomintroll.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments will be answered at the end of the week!! Participating in this event is keeping me very busy. I do appreciate every comment I get in the meantime though!
> 
> In the meantime, feel free to come scream at me about these dorks over on my [tumblr @stingerpicnic](https://stingerpicnic.tumblr.com/)! I promise I'm friendly.


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